The Death of Spencer Reid
by threeletterwords
Summary: As depressing as the title is... I assure you, it's not all death and suffering. ;  Set... whenever, though I'm picturing the characters in a more season sixish place. It's a  what a surprise  kidnapping fic, all revolving around  what a surprise  Reid.
1. Chapter 1

A/N First chapter of a weird multi-layered story. Another Reid kidnapping. I know. What a surprise. Hopefully it's still enjoyable.

I own nothing! Except any characters you don't recognize, that just pop into my head. It's a warped and frightening place up there. :) Enjoy!

It was cold. He gritted his teeth against the chill that threatened to envelop him, against the searing, agonizing pain that ripped through his body. He had to stay conscious though. He couldn't let the pressing darkness overtake him. If he slipped into unconsciousness... he may never slip out. He knew the statistics on such severe injuries. He knew... but he couldn't fall asleep. Even as his eyelids drooped he struggled against the aching need to sleep... He tried to ignore the sudden weakness that overtook him. The energy that slowly drained out of him with every trickle of blood that slipped through his skin. His life was draining away. And he had the privilege of watching it go. He had to keep going. He felt the skin on his fists go raw as he dragged himself across the pavement, more blood on his hands. He had to live, he didn't want to...he couldn't... he shook his head to clear it. His thoughts were becoming muddled and confused. The mind he relied on... the thoughts he so desperately clung to and used, weren't functioning properly. His mind was shutting down. He was dying. And with every passing moment he prayed his team would find him. He prayed he could see his mother another time. He had to ignore the agony. The gaping wound that was harshly exposed to night air. The slow seeping of blood... that now stained the gravel. He could feel rocks and debris scrape his already beaten body. God it hurt. The unsub... he had meant to kill. He was supposed to be dead. And he didn't care... He had to get help. If only the area wasn't secluded... if only a hiker or-or someone, anyone would find him... please... The slow dragging progress he had been making gradually slowed... then stopped all together. He had no energy. The last of it had drained away. And he was left with his broken body and faltering mind. The careful walls he had put up around him were breached. And he couldn't go on any longer. His arms gave out, and he rolled onto his back, his body went limp. The back breaking exertion had forced his body into the ground. His eyelids slipped closed. his hair fell over his face and into his eyes. He gave the appearance of a quiet sleeper. He gently slipped into unconsciousness. And Spencer Reid died.

But only for a minute.

A young jogger breathed heavily as she rounded the next corner, checking her watch and smiling in satisfaction. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she savoured in the silence of the woods, and the light twinkling of the thousands of stars above her. It was so peaceful out here. So beautiful. She smiled again and drew her last mile to a close. It was then that she saw him. Under the light shadow of a pine tree, she saw an unnaturally pale man of about her age stretched out on the sidewalk. But something was wrong. As she drew closer, her hand flew to her mouth. The thin young man lay in a pool of his own blood, a trail behind him stretching back and over the incline of the trail. He must have been crawling like that, desperate, for hours. She Sprinted to his side, and pressed both of her hands over the leaking wound, her eyes desperately flashing to the blood around him, then to the cell phone at her hip. She kept one blood coated hand pressed onto the wound, and used the other to shakily dial 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Please, please y-you have to help me... this man, he's been stabbed, I've got to get... to get him to a hospital..." She spluttered desperately at the serene woman's voice on the other end.

"Okay, miss I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."

"o-okay..."

"Okay. Where are you miss?"

"I'm in the woods off of highway... um... 9. Please hurry, He's lost so much blood... and I can't feel a pulse."

"We'll be there soon. Don't panic."

She heard the long dial tone and prayed to herself that she wouldn't watch this man die.

"clear!" The shout came from a harried looking young man in a lab coat, as he pressed the defibrillator against the young agents chest and abdomen.

"Damn it... DAMN IT. Get me 2 litres of o-neg, immediately. damn, fight for me kid...

He had been wheeled into the ER minutes before, and a group of doctors huddled around the dying man, trying desperately to revive him, and help him win his struggle against death.

"clear!" He shouted again. "Come on, come on man."

The monitors continued to display a flat line.

"Doctor... he's gone."

"No, NO dammit he's 26, let me... let me..."

"He's gone."

"He's not gone until I say he's gone, charge to 200."

The 2 nurses exchanged nervous glances, and hesitantly turned the dial on the machine.

"1...2...3... 1...2...3..."

He pressed against the young mans chest with his gloved hands, then took the defibrillator to his chest again.

"clear!" There was a pause... and then the machine spiked.

The room broke out in smiles and cheers, and claps on the doctors back.

"Normal rhythm. Good work doctor Carter."

"The fights not over... We've got to get him up to the OR to repair the damage to his Aorta. But damn this kids a fighter."

He grinned at the ER staff, and wheeled the kid to the elevator and up to the OR himself.

Maintenance swept up the blood and discarded gloves as the room emptied. A young brunette nurse sorted the mans personal belongings into a bag. Until she came to a badge. She dropped the bag As her mouth fell open in shock. He couldn't have been more then 25... how... she ran out of the room and to the small group near check in.

congratulations were thrown out and impressed looking ER nurses and doctors alike celebrated their victory.

"Yeah, we had to put in 3 chest tubes! But we got him back... yeah-he should be okay..."

"Brain function?"

"Normal."

"Nice one Carter..."

She reached the group and held the badge up.

"Carter. He's FBI."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N~ I know, crazy soon for an update... but since I got some pretty awesome feedback, and some threats worthy of Garcia for chapter updates, I wrote a little extra for y'all. It won't always be this regular I'm afraid, but I'll try for at least once every week! Please Enjoy!

A tall stack of paperwork awaited atop Morgan's desk and he groaned when he spotted it, removing his leather jacket and settling down into his desk for what he was sure would be a long day.

"I know." He looked up at Prentiss who was smiling faintly from the desk across from his.

"They're really piling the paperwork on lately... Also I slipped you half of mine." She grinned fiendishly.

He scoffed. "oh, nu-uh, you're not getting away with that again woman..." He slipped 3 files back onto her pile and she groaned.

He chuckled, and his eyes flitted across the bullpen.

"Hey... where's boy genius?"

She looked up. "huh?"

"Reid. He's not here."

"Oh... I don't know. He's usually here before me..." She shrugged. "But everyone's allowed to be late once, right?"

he nodded absentmindedly. "I guess... but this is the danger magnet we're talking about."

It was at that moment that his phone chose to ring.

He picked up the receiver and spoke automatically into it.

"Morgan."

"Agent Morgan?"

"Yes... who is this." He leaned forwards and his forehead furrowed at the unfamiliar voice.

"This is Amelia Knight from The Mary Washington hospital... An agent Spencer Reid listed you as his emergency contact?"

Morgan suddenly became alert at the mention of his friends name, and panic clouded his mind.

"What happened to him, is he okay?"

"Yes sir. But he's in critical condition and has been sent up to surgery."

"When did this happen? Why wasn't I notified earlier?" His voice was slowly rising, and though he hated himself for being rude to the poor woman, he was terrified that his 'little brother' would die.

Prentiss looked up questioningly at Morgan as he ranted into the phone. She surmised that Someone was hurt, and her stomach twisted in fear at the thought.

He finally threw the phone down. and slammed his fist into his desk.

"What is it?"

"It's Reid... he was stabbed." her eyes widened, and she grabbed her coat off her chair.

"Is he okay? I mean is he..."

"He's alive. But critical. They took him to Mary Washington."

"I'll call Hotch and the others, you go."

he nodded gratefully at her, and grabbed his keys, heading out the door as quickly as possible to reach his friend. He had to be okay... he had to...

"Morgan!"

He turned just as he reached the door.

Prentiss looked at him meaningfully, and as if she'd read his mind, said,

"He'll be okay." Morgans nodded. His eyes wide with concern, and the need to help his friend.

Prentiss sunk into her chair and took in the information, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. One shaky hand reached towards the phone.

"Helloo Emily, where's my delicious specimen of man gone...?" Garcia grinned at the agent as her eyes scanned the room.

She did a doubletake.

"Emily? Are you okay? Where is everyone? Emily?"

"Garcia." She stopped her rant.

"Garcia, Reid's been stabbed."

Never had whitewashed walls or hard plastic seats been more depressing. Morgan had arrived a half hour ago, only to be told to sit and wait for a doctor. He couldn't take the waiting. He felt he might burst from the concern he held for the youngest team member.

At that moment, Emily rounded the corner, spotting Derek, and walking quickly towards him, followed by the rest of the team. Their eyes mirrored the fear he felt.

"Hey Derek. Any news?" Rossi asked anxiously, trying to hold onto the composure the rest seemed to have lost.

"None. I just know he's in surgery, and it was touch and go for a while... now I'm not sure." His head fell into his hands.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up into the blazing eyes of Emily Prentiss.

Garcia's eyes were misty, here face crumpled. She staggered to the nearest chair and fell into it, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

Morgan didn't have the energy to comfort her just yet. He had his own problems to sort through.

Hotch shook his head slowly.

"How did this happen?"

"It wasn't exactly an accident." JJ spoke up, her cheeks also coated in drying tears. "I got a call from the local PD... they say they've had similar case for the last few weeks."

"Why didn't they call us in before now?" Hotch looked furious, and with his pressed suit, and flaming eyes, he looked like the embodiment of FBI.

"They thought they could handle it... they weren't sure it was a serial until now."

"The first cases were murders? Why is Reid alive?"

"I don't know. He messed up? It wasn't for lack of trying though... Reid apparently dragged himself through the woods for over an hour until someone found him... he was legally dead for 10 minutes... " She cut off at the end, trying to stifle the sob that rose in her throat.

Rossi gave her a sympathetic look.

"Spencer Reid?" The team rose from their chairs and faced a young man with dark hair slicked back, and piercing, discerning blue eyes. He wore blue scrubs.

"I'm doctor Cutler... I operated on Agent Reid. The surgery was fairly successful... He had massive internal bleeding, and he suffered major blood loss from the stab wounds, It was touch and go for a while there, but We were able to stablize the bleeding- and he should survive. It will be a difficult recovery as he was stabbed in the back in addition to the wounds to his abdomen, he'll have to go through therapy. But he's a fighter. He'll make it." He nodded, keeping his features level and as emotionless as possible.

The team exhaled in relief.

Hotch nodded his thanks. "When can we see him?"

"Depending on his condition, he should be able to have a few visitors at a time beginning tomorrow."

"Thank you." Rossi also nodded at the young surgeon and extended his hand. He took it readily and shook.

"Of Course." He smiled and departed from the cluster of agents.

Everyone seemed considerably more at ease, though the news wasn't without flaw.

"Alright. There isn't much we can do for him now, so Morgan, you and Prentiss go to where Reid was found, and speak to the person who discovered the bo-who found him..."

He paused.

"Dave, you and JJ go meet with the local PD, see what they have on this case... Garcia, head back to the office, and man the phones for information about the case, or Reid."

"You realize we're going to have to question reid..." The team nodded grimly, and set off for their individual tasks.

"Oh god..." Prentiss eyed the blood stained sidewalk with disgust. It was amazing how far Reid had dragged himself in his fragile state.

"How could he get that far? He was bleeding so..." She stopped at Morgan's expression.

"That kid, is stronger than we ever give him credit for."

Prentiss nodded in agreement.

Morgan couldn't help but envision the kid, after going through hell, dragging himself along rough terrain. His focus slipping. His blood staining the trail. Dying. And still going. he shuddered at the image.

They followed the trail of blood and broken glass to the large puddle near the forest edge.

"This was a dump site. The unsub thought he was dead. And left. This isn't where he was stabbed..." Morgan crouched and examined the puddle, blinking back the tears that burned his eyes.

"He's strong Morgan. Come on, after what he's been through? He'll make it."

"One of these days, he's not going to bounce back."

She nodded sadly.

"I know." pause.

"Hey, we should be talking to that jogger..."

"Yeah. Right." He stood, and they made their way over to the young red headed woman talking to a police officer.

"Hello, Eleanor ruvell?"

She cut off mid sentence.

"Yes?"

"We're with the FBI, we'd like to ask you some questions..."

"Oh sure, of course."

"We work with the young man you found... and we're-"

Her eyes widened.

"He's FBI? He looked my age..."

"Yeah he's a genius... he is that age." Morgan smiled to himself.

"Really? I should have known.. he would have to be pretty damned strong to drag himself all that way..." Her eyes clouded over as she remembered the moment she'd found him.

"Anyway, miss Ruvell, He's with the BAU and he's pretty severely inured. We need all the facts."

She nodded in understanding and morgan relaxed. He wished all witnesses were this cooperative.

"I was going for a late jog... it was about midnight when I left. I was finishing my last lap... I heard a sort of whimper about a half hour earlier, but I thought it was just an animal or something... but I spotted him over there..." She gestured to the puddle of blood.

"He was bleeding so much." Her eyes overflowed with tears as she once again relived the moment. Prentiss placed a reassuring hand on her back.

"We can stop if you'd like..."

"No." She stated firmly. "You need this. I want to... I want to help."

Emily smiled at her encouragingly, though she herself felt like screaming.

"I put my hands on his stomach to stop the bleeding... but there was so much... he had no pulse when I checked, and I called 911..." She stopped.

"Good. Really good. You did the right thing. You saved his life Eleanor. But- Did you notice anything else though... anyone else there, or anything strange about Rei-the agent?"

"No. Except... " she paused.

"what is it?" Emily probed gently.

"I-I heard a truck engine start up as soon as I found him. It could be a coincidence but..." Morgan exchanged a look with Emily, and smiled his thanks at the girl.

"Thank you very much. You've been helpful."

The pair walked back to the SUV, hoping Rossi and JJ had more luck...


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry, this chapter is going to be quite short, but I felt something needed to be said, and though I have an idea of what to write next, I was having trouble going about it when I wrote this. So just a temporary fix for you, hopefully it's decent, enjoy. :)

"So. He's targeting young people of different genders and ethnicities. That's why we didn't see the connection. He uses a drug store narcotic to knock them out, then keeps them at an unknown location before stabbing them and leaving their bodies in the woods." The man struggled to justify his departments lack of action and his eyes pleaded with the agents.

Rossi jotted the information down on a notepad, and JJ nodded at the detective. "We'll need the case file... everything you have on this case."

"Right. You should know we don't have many leads though... we really need your help on this one." He scratched his head absently, and handed her the nearest boxes on each murder. "The rest are in that room there..." He pointed at an open door to their left.

"Thank you detective... we'll be in touch." JJ smiled pleasantly at the man.

They retrieved the boxes then made their way out- exiting out the back door and driving back to the hospital with new information.

The group met in the hospital lobby and discussed what they knew of the case.

"So his victims are between 20 and 30... all physically non-threatening... he may have a physical ailment of some sort? He probably drives an old truck for transporting bodies... the jogger heard an engine starting up."

"Right, and he stabs them, almost always a sign of sexual motivations."

"Guys... I know we're dreading it, but we'll have a lot more information when we talk to Reid."

They sighed. They knew Morgan was right, but they'd been avoiding that task like the plague. It would be hard.

The team finally made their way to room 210 as if they were walking to the gallows.

Hotch's fist hovered over the peeling off white paint of the door to Reid's room, and-though his expression gave nothing away, his mouth forming it's usual grim line, he was terrified of what he might see... what state his agent might be in. Reid was his responsibility, and he cared for and respected the young man. he didn't know what he'd do if he lost him. With that thought, he took a deep breath and gave a hesitant knock. The rest of the team could sense the team leaders inner turmoil. They all felt it. Felt the fear for the youngest member of the team like a thick fog. It suffocated all 5 agents. There was an intake of breath as they awaited an answer. After a few tense seconds, they heard a quiet throat clearing, followed by a muffled "come in". The fog was easily lifted. There was a collective sigh of relief.

"Thank god. Boy genius rises from the dead once again" Morgan seemed fully aware that his humour was inappropriate at such a time, but was too elated to care. The kid was awake and talking. Awake and talking! The rest of the Team felt the sudden ease as strongly as he did, and laughed with him, Pushing the door forwards to greet their friend. The sight wasn't quite as cheerful as they had hoped.

Reid didn't look all that great to be honest. Yes he was awake, and yes he was talking, but his voice was weak and dull. Though his face held a small smile, It didn't reach his eyes. They were haunted and dark. Physically, he wasn't much better. The usual shadows beneath his eyes had deepened from lack of sleep. He was exceedingly pale from blood loss, his usual flush was lost. His hair was lank and dirty and hung messily around his face. His hands were wrapped tightly in gauze, his arms sporting cuts and bruises from broken glass, and blows from his captor. He had a nasty looking bruise on his jaw, and they could tell from his expression that he was in immense pain. And that's just what they could see.

"Nice to see you pretty boy." Morgan's grin faltered upon entrance, but soon picked up again-though less genuine than before.

"You had us pretty worried for a while..." Prentiss took his hand as she sat in the padded blue and white chair at his bedside. She smiled lightly, attempting to rekindle some of the original joy she felt at his response, but he just looked so... sad.

Reid cleared his throat again. "'m fine." As he looked around at the thoroughly unconvinced faces of his coworkers, he almost laughed. He just tried to tell a room full of profilers that he was perfectly fine after being stabbed 11 times by a psycopath... some genius he was.

"Like hell you are." JJ stared intently at the young genius before Morgan continued.

"Reid, you really scared us. What the hell did you do to make some freak want to kill you this time huh? Maybe put an ad out? Age 26, Occupation FBI, Is Searching for mentally unstable murderer with a preference for nerds..." Morgan joked with him, but his voice had a dangerous edge to it.

"Morgan..." Hotch warned, glancing towards Reid with every word. Morgan quickly plastered a smile onto his face an turned to Spencer, but it dropped immediately. Apparently, they weren't at the stage where they could joke about it. His face had crumpled. Tears sprung into his eyes at the comment. It wasn't like he searched for trouble... and the man that did this... wasn't just a murderer. He was a butcher.

"Spence" JJ gently put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes brimming with concern.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about what happened to you. And I'm sorry we're overwhelming you, but you know we're going to need you to answer some questions." She paused. "And know that we're all here for you Spence. No matter what happens from now on, he Cannot hurt you. Alright?"

Reid met her gaze, and nodded shortly as the rest of the team smiled gratefully at the young blonde.

"Okay kiddo. Can you tell us your story? From the beginning... if your ready." Rossi spoke softly, as if afraid he might scare him off, though he did look slightly better after JJ's reassurance, his eyes no longer filled with a need to escape... but with a new need... the look in his eyes was that which he got when he locked his keys in his car and was trying to figure out how to get to them. when he wanted to a crack a code, or decipher a hidden message. When he was scanning the information he had catalogued away into the recesses of his mind, plucking a file and allowing it's contents to open up to him... His gaze was determined. His jaw set. And with this newfound determination, he began his story. His voice didn't waver, and his eyes never left those of his colleagues. Not once.


	4. Chapter 4

He started slow. He breathed in steadily, drawing in small gulps of air so he wouldn't tear his already shredded skin apart. He closed his eyes. Silently trying to quell the raging pain that threatened to violate his mind. By the time his first sentence escaped... the team was dead silent. Awaiting the horrors he was sure to have faced. The air seemed to thicken with tension... until his voice cut through the fog. Clear and firm.

"He knew me." A circle of glancing commenced, the team wondering silently to themselves, afraid to voice their questions, looking to each other for answers that weren't there. Reid fiddled with the edge of his blanket, keeping steady eye contact with his team mates. Morgan sighed deeply. Reid was being cooperative for them. Ignoring himself for the good of mankind, and the future victims they prayed the unsub would never have. Just the kind of idiotic thing Reid would do. He continued.

"I don't know how. Or... when he found me. But... he had been following me for weeks. And Willow too."

He met the curious gaze of his superior, and... puzzlingly... flinched. Maybe because of who Willow had been. Maybe because he couldn't quite face the brutal stare of an alpha male. Whatever the reason, Reid looked quickly to JJ. Upon seeing the concerned cerulean depths of her eyes, he nearly lost it. Rapidly blinking and grasping at composure that seemed to elude him.

"Willow. The sweetest..." He choked on his words. Choosing instead to silently remember the kindred spirit he had found in his fellow prisoner. She had been light in a darkened room. A vibrant young girl he had come to befriend. He only wished it had been at a coffee shop, or a book store... not in the filthy basement of a serial killer. She hadn't deserved this.

"She's a... a young college student. An aspiring journalist. He... he kidnapped her a few hours after me." He paused to take in a shuddering breath. Morgan tried to gently push him back on track.

"Reid... Spencer, we need to know about how he abducted you. We need all the details man."

"I know that." His tone was sharp.

Derek cringed. He had expected something like this.

Didn't mean he was ready for it.

Reid sighed heavily before picking the story back up.

"I had just gotten home. I remember it was about 11:30. Mrs Chandler-my next door neighbour, she stopped in the hallway to ask me about work. My hours... she asked me why I was coming in so late. I talked with her for about five minutes." It was strange to think of Mrs Chandler now. She was a nice, if nosy woman of about 50. She had just asked him polite questions. The world had been simple. Quiet. Only mildly disturbing. He hadn't been trying desperately to fight for his life and the lives of others.

"I poured myself a drink. Grabbed a book. Tried to doze off." He remembered the next part so vividly. The scene played out in full colour in his mind. The curse of an eidetic memory.

"And then... and then I was inhaling something strange... sweet. I had no idea what was going on. Until I felt the fabric clamped over my face."

Prentiss frowned heavily at her friend.

"Chloroform."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and swallowed.

"I tried to say something, do anything, but he pulled me out of my seat... I was paralyzed. There is _nothing_ more terrifying than being paralyzed." He shook slightly. Whether it was with anger or fear, no one knew.

"My vision was so blurry... Everything was fading around me except his grip. He simply didn't care if I was damaged. Of course... I couldn't fight back. Probably couldn't have without the drugs. And then I blacked out." He paused. It was a heavy pause. No one knew quite how to follow up something like that. Hotch, of course... Did.

"Okay Reid. So he chloroformed you, and dragged you out of the building. We have agents there now, examining the crime scene." His gaze shifted to Hotch's eyes, finally. The fear seemed to evaporate, replaced with a fury that threatened to boil over into a full on yelling, crying rant. Instead... He challenged him.

"Anything?" Hotch shifted uncomfortably.

"Not yet."

"I didn't think so. He's good. Organized. You wouldn't think it though. The bastard is a filthy, reckless mess." He stopped briefly to collect his thoughts.

"Except when he's killing."

"When I woke up, he was pulling her down the stairs. We were in this dusty basement. I swear the walls were crumbling around us."

He awoke to the smell of mold and dirt. His ears rang. He lifted a hand and felt hesitantly up to the back of his head... pressing two fingers gingerly to the base of his skull. He flinched. Looks like this guy wasn't too careful with his victims. Victims. Oh no. Not again. He couldn't possibly be the victim of some random psycho _again_. He felt a lump rise in his throat. How many times had he had these thoughts? 'I'm probably going to die. Dammit. I'll miss the team. I hope my mom gets the message I recorded for her." How many times had he woken in another filthy shack? Or basement as the case may be. How many unsubs had preyed on the person they perceived to be the weakest link? He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to ignore the surge of pain that he felt with every movement he made. He vowed to remain in an unmoving state until further notice. That was... until he heard heavy footsteps... accompanied by the soft, uneven stumbling of someone being dragged. He squinted against the darkness... the only source of light was the stream of dim moonlight that trickled through a grimy window across from him. It couldn't really be called "light". As the footfalls became louder, and the door at the top of the stair screeched open, he scrambled quickly upright, ignoring the the nerve endings that screamed in protest. A woman of about 20 was pulled by the hair through the doorway.

"Alright, _Alright_! I'm coming already." She flinched at the constant strain on her scalp, and continued to stumble blindly into the darkness, her feet faltering on the uneven steps.

"Okay, I can handle this. Would you just stop! Please, I can navigate steps on my- " She stopped talking as she was shoved onto the ground in front of him, choppy red locks falling over her face. She shook them back and regained her balance, rolling quickly to sit and watch the madman retreat. She glanced around and blinked in surprise when she spotted Reid at the wall, giving him a sad smile. He blinked back, unsure of how she could be so calm. He whispered hoarsely.

"You shouldn't agitate him. From the looks of this place, it's not his first time." Weapons gleamed along the walls, and on the workbench opposite both jumped at the sound of the door being slammed, followed by the sound of a lock clicking securely above them. The girl clambered to her knees, moving to sit opposite him, dusting off dirt and residue.

"I probably shouldn't. But that guy is a bully. He can do with me what he wants. I'm not going to sit there and take it. Are you?" The corners of his mouth turned up into something that resembled a smile at her attitude.

"Not a chance." She gave a light chuckle, dimples popping out against her ghostly skin.

"Good. I'm Willow." He nodded uncertainly, not entirely sure what to make of the young woman. He considered introducing himself with the usual, more formal Dr Reid... but thought better of it. She wouldn't accept it.

"Spencer."

"Hey Spencer. Who the hell is this guy, and what does he want from us?" He shrugged. Shaking his head absentmindedly as his mind worked in overdrive.

"Do you know him?" She shook her head and he frowned.

"Me neither. Which means this probably isn't revenge, or personal in any way..."

She bit her lip anxiously.

"Is that a good thing?" He tilted his head to the side, considering.

"It depends. He could be less emotionally attached, using us only for hostages... which I doubt, because we're people that he plucked from specific locations, without alerting anyone, and he has a large array of weapons strapped to his wall..."

"What's the other option?"

"He could be a serial killer. Targeting us specifically, and keeping track of our habits and routines, in order to pinpoint our exact location on this day, and ensuring that no one else would be around." She looked considerably more afraid than she had previously.

"Oh. How... how do you know about this?" He caught her eye.

"It's my job. I work for the Behavioural analysis unit of the FBI." Her eyes widened.

"Really? You look... young. Too young." He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm... a little ahead of most people." It already sounded like bragging, and he didn't want to get further into it. It was silent for a moment.

"I'm a journalist. Or... I want to be. I mean, I'm trying to be. I'm a student right now... working a small newspaper in the city..." She trailed off.

"It feels weird to talk about my life here. You know?" He nodded.

"Perfectly understandable." She rolled her eyes.

"Hey. Could you act like you haven't done this a thousand times? I'm kind of new to it, and I would appreciate a little support. You know. Some freaking out done by someone other than me." He smirked.

"Ah, first timers." Her eyes narrowed, but she was smiling. They lapsed back into silence. When WIllow spoke again, her voice had an edge to it.

"Spencer? What's he going to do to us?" He couldn't tell her. She couldn't know.

"I don't know."

"Liar."

Suddenly, a loud crackling noise filled the room. A throat clearing could be heard, before a rough voice began to speak. When he spoke... he seemed to rip at the words rather than speak them.

"Welcome. I expect you know by now, why you're here. I hope you're comfortable. Because soon... I hope to change that. You two have the privilege of being added to my collection. I think it's best that I show you, rather than tell you what that means. Dr Reid. I know who you work for. Now, the FBI will acknowledge my work. The police will... see me. As for you Ms Harris... my story will be known. Goodnight. I look forward to tomorrow."

A/N~ I'm really sorry it took so long! I have been surprisingly busy. Finally composed this chapter today. Not my best work, but I wanted to give you something... more ideas blossoming as we speak. Hope to update weekly, probably on Tuesdays if that works for all of you. Hope you enjoyed it! I always appreciate reviews. Have a nice week one and all.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Thru-_

"Would you shut up? You don't think I have enough on my mind without that incessant tapping?" Reid immediately stilled the motion in his hand, a flush creeping over his neck.

WIllow's anger melted immediately, and she gave him a faint nod of apology.

"Sorry Spence. Tired." He waved off her words absently, closing his eyes against the faint sunlight that dripped through the drab grey of the curtains. He couldn't stand the waiting. The action, he could stand. The unsubs... He'd been taught how to diffuse that bomb. Unravelling minds? He was good at that. He could do that. He'd been given the necessities. In books and seminars, they covered all the scenarios, gave you all the tools. But no one ever told him how to deal with this part. With the scared girl, or the pain bursting in his skull, or the constant ticking of the clock. Figurative clock of course. There was barely daylight, let alone an accurate measure of-

"Play a game with me."

"What?"

"A game. Like monopoly. Or twister. Or... You're looking at me like I'm a crazy person."

"Yup."

She gave him a shove, and whiff of a smile crossed his face.

"Come on Spencer. A game. The ones you played when you were, you know... a kid?" He shook his head slowly.

"My dad left. My mom didn't play games. Unless 'find the medication' can be classified as a game." Her brow creased.

"Friends?"

"I didn't have friends. People at school were all a good six years my senior, I didn't really have anyone, I..."

"I get it." She said softly.

"I'm Sorry." He glanced at her.

"Not at all. Didn't mean it as a way to guilt you or anything. Just factual information." She brightened a fraction, Reassured that she had not, indeed, hit a nerve. That that was just the unusual way in which he addressed people.

She turned to face him from her spot a metre away, and crossed her legs, shifting until she found something resembling comfort in the cold, dank basement.

"20 questions. Let's go. You're guessing first."

"Why on Earth..."

"We're playing. I nominated you." He chuckled lightly.

"Alright. Don't know how you can play 'games', when there's a crazy-"

Sometimes he wished the damned devil wouldn't appear every time you spoke of him. Unfortunately...

The door overhead snapped open, and they heard the strain on the hinges as it was slammed with the same amount of force. He closed his eyes.

A beach. A breezy, warm tropical beach. He'd saved Willow. Been all heroic, and everything. He'd brought her to meet the team. He had a feeling they'd get along. They had all taken an early vacation, and basked in the warmth of the caribbean sun...

He barely felt it as he was hoisted up and slammed against the opposite wall. Barely heard her screams. His eyes squeezed even further shut. But it had to end sometime. Blood flew from his mouth as his jaw was hammered to the side. He gasped as he felt the area of impact swell up. His head swung back towards the unsub, his eyes finally opening. It was only then that he really felt the force of the blow, and he let out a small whimper of pain. He spit out some blood that had collected in his mouth, scrambling to get into an upright position, to protect himself in any way possible...

"What? You don't wanna look at my pretty face?" He taunted, shoving him into the cold stone at his rough brick laying job left jagged ends to tear at his clothing. He wished suddenly for home. The warmth of Vegas. The safety he felt with his mother. When she was lucid of course. It seemed he was trying to find somewhere... anywhere to escape to. Anything to ignore the fear he saw in Willow's face. Or the frightening alternative of the madness in his eyes.

He felt an uncomfortable twinge as metal bindings were clamped around his wrists. He gritted his teeth.

"What is it you plan on doing exactly?" The man neglected the question. As he had with nearly every other thing they'd said so far.

He didn't give answers. He just stooped low to finish locking him up. He smelled of cigarettes and some other acrid stench... Reid couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Willow stood about a metre from the scene, her fists clenched until her knuckles stood out against her tightly stretched skin. She looked so scared. But she didn't know how to intervene. So she was forced to watch it play out. She glanced at the dozens of weapons beside her. An unvoiced question. Reid shook his head at her. He couldn't risk her.

Morgan frowned.

"Wait, so he bound you?" Reid nodded slowly.

"Yeah. In shackles." His voice never strayed from a low whisper.

"But he hadn't hurt you guys yet... right? I mean, he hadn't... done anything?" Garcia glanced nervously around at her friends and Reid looked at her carefully.

"Not yet."

His hands were unbearably tightly bound behind him, the metal links disappearing through a hole in the wall. He guessed the chains were pulled as taught as possible. He wasn't able to sit up all the way, awkwardly half leaning on his hands. He supposed this was part of the torture. Not even being able to sit comfortably. Forced to put strain on both his arms and back or break a limb. A single tear brushed down Willows face, and she irritably swiped it away. She didn't have time for emotion right now.

The unsub leaned casually against the wall, sharpening the blade of a short hunting knife with a wooden handle. Reid took a moment to study him.

He was textbook.

Male. In his late 50's. Had probably been killing for the majority of his life... moving from place to place. Reid guessed this was his home base. The build up of grime alone made it plausible. This guy... was just plain scary. No one would let a man like this into their homes. Gruff grey beard. Straggly, reaching the beginning of his thick neck. Tall. Like, taller than Reid tall. Maybe 6"4 or 5. Broad shoulders. His eyes were small. Dark brown. They were cold... emotion beyond excitement was hard to detect. But he was excited. His hands trembled. But it wasn't for lack of practice. His posture... his mannerisms. This was a man who enjoyed the kill.

As if he could sense that he was being judged by his prisoners, he turned.

He met the frightened eyes of the young red head, and laughed. It was one of those laughs that you just cringed at... more chilling than a scream.

"No. I'm not going to use this on him. Or you. Not yet. That's the dessert. Now... now comes the meat." She glared.

"No. No, sorry. Creepy as that was, we are two, highly intelligent adults. We're not falling for your games. We will not be broken."

His eyes gleamed with what appeared to be fascination at the young genius to his left, and the curiously fiery woman in front of him...

"Really?" She gave a stiff nod. Not seeming to regret her words in the slightest. He glanced the young agent, seeming to come to a decision.

"Mr Reid." He purposefully acknowledged him with in an inaccurate title - to strip him of any power he might have still had over him. Reid struggled very slightly so as not to destroy the bones in his arms. Another pro to having him secured like this. No one could hope to fight back.

"I don't like you much. Well... I don't like the Police. Do you know... " He crouched once again next to the agent, who was starting to sweat with the exertion he used to stay upright. The man leaned in.

"That they didn't try to come after me? Not once! Ha!" He laughed again, and Spencer cringed at the grating sound.

"So. I think the police might pay attention _now_. When they find the mutilated bodies of my two latest victims." He grinned slowly.

"Nothing personal 'Dr.' You just happened to be a perfect candidate. Young... and weak. Just how I like 'em." He stood back.

"Right now, I just want to have a little fun Mr Reid. A little something to get the ball rolling. Are we in agreement?"

That was the last thing he heard before the force of a grown mans fist, sent his world tumbling headfirst into blackness.

A/N~ Again, not fantastic, though it's an update at least! I hope to update soon, though-If you haven't seen already, I'm away next week, finally going to escape the huge piles of work for beaches and sun... Sorry about the delay guys. Computers erasing hours of work... Not particularly fun. For anyone reading Beautiful Disaster, It WILL be updated next time. But I legitimately lost all of my work, and didn't have a chance to write three chapters this week. Hope you liked. Always appreciate comments. :) Have a good Easter break.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please. I'm sorry."

Her words were barely recognizable. She kept up the constant mantra, apologies joined by half formed sobs. Reid struggled desperately for consciousness. Had he caused this? What had happened while he was asleep to traumatize such a strong girl? The same one who had been talking back to an armed unsub hours before?

He had to hear the story. For both their sakes, he had to find a way to interpret what the unsub did, profile his ass off, and wait for some kind of epiphany. Somehow find a way to convey the knowledge to someone who could help him. It seemed an impossible task.

_Just open them. Just lift your eyelids. Talk. Something. Dammit. Move!_

A finger twitched. For a second, he felt his spirits lift...

And then the pain registered.

It all came at once. When he had regained conscious thought later, he was sure that was why it had forced him into agony. It was the force of 50 punches to the gut and face. Kicks to the arms and legs. The strain of hours of sitting in that half lying, bone crushing position. Just shy of enough to break his shoulders. It was cuts along his arms, and a broken foot. Ribs fractured. It was as much pain as the unsub could think of inflicting upon him without actually causing serious blood loss. And it forced him into a gasping, struggling mess.

The wheels that constantly spun in his mind seemed to slow. He'd read about this kind of sensation. Never felt it. His thoughts disconnected from his body as he tried desperately to calm the jerking of his limbs. His thoughts became too muddled to understand all the noise and pain and thoughts that swarmed him. And he let his instincts rule him. The instincts that told him to get out. He may be a genius, but his gut feelings were the same as everyone else's.

He didn't know exactly when his eyes opened, but suddenly she was there, eyes wide with terror, both hands grasping his tightly in an effort to calm... which one of them exactly?

He continued to thrash, only worsening the discomfort.

"Spencer, shhh, calm down. Stop it, please, it's only going to get worse..."

She sobbed.

"Spencer, please!"

That did it. His mind caught up and he clamped his mouth shut, ceasing the movement in his limbs as best he could. She frowned at him, and he felt sick. The expression seemed to pop up all too frequently. He found himself wishing he could've known her smile.

"Spencer?" Her brow furrowed.

"What'd I miss?" He grunted it out with some difficulty. But her features relaxed.

"Thank god. You scared me you idiot." He tried for a smile, but it didn't happen.

"Willow." She looked curiously at him. Oh man. She looked so worn. She didn't deserve to be his caretaker. She shouldn't have to look after him. But there she was. His expression morphed into one of extreme guilt... and gratitude. Tears accumulated in his eyes.

She took his hand again. For a second she just squeezed. He imagined a friendship that might have been.

And then he spotted the bruise on her face.

"So... what happened while you were unconscious exactly? He focused on you? Or her? I thought he had a specific pattern, and-"

"I'm getting there." A whiff of impatience coloured his voice... enough to make Morgan's brow furrow even more than it had already been...

"Reid. You know we have to ask." Hotch gave him his signature stern eyebrow raise. Reid ignored him.

The bruise. It spread across her cheek bone, the deep purple contrasting against the snow white of her skin. It was painfully obvious. An unwanted stamp of her captors fist. He wished he could raise a hand to her face... and simply smudge it away.

But, unfortunately. Life couldn't work that way. He shook his head to clear his rage.

"What did that cretin do?" And, before she could answer, his voice raised.

"Seriously? I can't believe the, well no, I can believe it, I know the damn statistics, I just want to know why, why-" She shook her head.

"It's just a couple of bruises Spence. It's not like this is a surprise." He sighed heavily... as if the world had just fallen directly onto his shoulders.

"It's just... I hate when people are hurt at my expense. A friend... well. She gave herself up to a... a really bad guy for me. I've yet to forgive myself. Willow, you are a seriously... determined girl." She shot him a watery smile.

"Smart. You'll definitely make it out of this. I promise you, If it's the last thing I do, I'll save you from this. And then we'll see about monopoly."

"...That was the day she died."

A/N~ Ahh, cliffhangers. :) Speaking of being sorry, I apologize for not updating in so long. I feel awful. I honestly have been in the middle of studying, work and family obligations. It's a daily struggle, and let's face it, I have been putting fanfiction low on my list. I hope you liked this anyway, I liked writing it. Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for sticking with this story.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry guys. I said I'd finish, and I swear I will, but I was really just desperately trying to get on top of my other stories, and time caught up with me... and I've been in Hawaii for a couple of weeks. No, I don't really have excuses. I just hope I can update at least semi-regularly from here on out. I think I should shut up at this point, because you remaining readers probably just wanna READ. So Enjoy!

"Tell me something." She looked tiredly in his direction.

"Hm?"

"Tell me something."

"Spencer, are you delirious? Oh crap, do I have to knock you out again?"

A strained smile appeared on his face... looking to Willow like a grimace.

"Anything, just talk, just... give me something to focus on."

Willow glanced around, obviously trying to draw some kind of inspiration, scrambling for thoughts that wouldn't come... no, they never did when you needed them.

"um... um... Once upon a time-"

"Lame."

"Pardon?"

"Lame! I never understood the fascination with that phrase, it's not very inventive, is it?"

"I thought you were in pain! Why are you criticizing my choice of words, I'm weaving beautiful stories here to act as your personal painkiller. So... Shut up."

"Will-"

"Once upon a time, there was a village. It was a peaceful little place, quiet. Friends would gather in the square, and all prospered."

"This story is pointless-"

"And there were no interruptions, because the townspeople knew that if they wanted to keep their precious family jewels safe, they had to be polite to one another."

"Point taken."

"But one day, there was trouble in the village."

"I'm not a child, can't you-"

"An _evil douchebag_ was terrorizing the town, and the only defense against his plot to steal their... jewels, was a fleet of volunteering townspeople."

"One by one, Men were picked off, and their defense weakened. Just as hope looked faint, and lives forfeit... a troupe of knights rode into town. Seven sets of armor gleaming in the morning sun, horses sturdy and true..."

"These knights were specialists. They vanquished evil, and rescued good villages such as this. And today, they were set on capturing the villain of the week, and returning the precious... jewels to their owners. Sadly before they could do any good, a member of the village was snatched from their grasp. A beautiful young maiden, who was integral to the well being of the village."

"You do think a lot of yourself..."

"Who said this was about us? And I'm self involved." She tutted softly and Reid grinned.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted..." She punctuated this statement with a pointed glance in his direction.

"She was kidnapped. So the knights' stakes were raised. They redoubled their efforts, and set off towards the lair of the evil sonofabitch,"

"Douchebag."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, it was an evil douchebag, I just..."

"Yeah, got it, whatever. So they set off towards him, yada yada yada, but before they could wrestle her from his clutches, he snatched another. One of their number. The bravest and most dashing of the knights."

"This is laughably thin, I know it's a feeble attempt at making light of this situ-"

"SO. Two lives were on the line. He locked them in his dungeon, far from the light of day. The knights had no time to mourn the loss of their brother, and quickly forged a plan. They were through with this constant risk, the consequences with every advance... so they lay low. Putting the quest on hold, to circle, slowly, ever nearing the cave where he hid. For many days and nights, the pair stayed, confined, alone in the darkness. They helped each other through the moments in that basement. Through the pain. Through the struggle that became steadily harder. They became good friends as a result of their shared anguish."

That was sobering.

"On the last night... when the evil douchebag was sick and tired of the lack of attention, and ready to charge the knights once and for all, the friends broke free."

"They climbed out of the single window, and towards a better place. Directly into the arms of the brave knights, who had, in the meantime, put the evil douchebag in his place. Finally, the jewels, and the even more valuable people, were safe from any more pain. They celebrated with tequila." There was a pause for several moments.

"That's it?"

"It was artistry Spencer."

"It was infantile..."

"Oh, stop. Helped get your mind off the pain didn't it?"

"Did. Thanks."

"Hey, I'm a writer, stories, they're what I do."

"Huh. You wouldn't know it."

"You do know you were the evil douchebag, right?"

"Please, I was the dashing knight."

"_Ha_, if it helps you sleep at night."

"It will." She smiled more sincerely.

"Good."

They lapsed into silence. Contemplating everything. Living. For however long they could...

Spencer glanced at Willow. She looked a little more peaceful. A little happier after the pointless exchange of banter. It was true... she'd helped. He was a little more relaxed himself. Maybe sleep would come... maybe the pain would lessen...

He felt like maybe he could rest now. If only for a while.

He took a final look at her relaxed features, and the laugh lines that marked them softly. She was his strength now. Her and the thought of his team. Those bits of solice lasted him long enough to bridge the gap into a restless sleep.

_Buzzzzzzzz_

He awoke to an unfamiliar noise.

It went off again.

What the hell was that?

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz-BUZZZZ-Buzzzzz_

He glanced around, confused. There it was again. A low, constant hum.

"Willow?" The pitch changed slightly...

"What's up?"

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That... humming noise?"

Silence.

"That's weird, I swear it was just there. Did you hear it?"

There was another long silence as he waited for her response... or another round of the tiny buzzing noise, which had now, strangely, gone silent. Just as it was becoming clear that the noise had arranged itself into something that resembled a badly hummed rendition of the Golden Girls theme song, she coughed quietly.

"Sorry. Bored."

He laughed a little to himself. It was odd to be able to again. The throbbing in his ribs had gone down sometime in the last... however long it'd been. Time blurred together now. The world had settled back into silent tedium. After hours and hours in a confined near pitch dark room, boredom was inevitable. He squinted at her through the swath of darkness. He was really starting to admire this woman. She seemed familiar, and kind, and refreshing. maybe it was just the fact that a serial killer had it out for both of them that brought about that friendly togetherness. But his nerves when talking to girls were on the back burner, and that was progress. If only he could grasp that mind numbing fear when in a club, or...

He was beginning to think nonsense. A bad sign when compared with his usual brain function... now reduced to that of a tired adolescent.

Yet, while sharp senses and an intricate knowledge of their captor may be exponentially more helpful, this slowed, muddied view of the world provided much needed escape from the darkness. And those questioning eyes... and the bruise just below them. He hated this, he hated waiting, he hated hurting and seeing Willow hurt, he was done with it.

That's when it registered.

He was a victim. He wasn't cleverly profiling from the inside out. Wasn't subtly breaking the unsub and forcing his way through to the root of his problem. he wasn't doing a damn thing. He was a victim. He was a 20 something year old kid stuck in the clutches of a hardened psycho, and clinging to his fellow captor, as all the victims did. As was anticipated. He wasn't supervisory special agent Dr Spencer Reid. He was spencer. Victim number 22. Or so he'd gathered... through snippets of his captors ranting. And there was a very slim chance that they were both getting out of this alive. He couldn't stomach the statistic right now.

*He gasped at the memory. It still sent him into a tailspin of grief. He couldn't seem to get out of the plane that was his wreck of a life as it plummeted to the ground. He could feel death, could see it coming. Felt his chest constrict so that air was impossible. You know you're a waste of life when you cause someone to feel this way. That was the moment when Reid stopped caring. Only for a second. And he felt terrible about it... but for a single moment, life was pointless, and death was inevitable. Then he saw a flash of a beaten readhead, and...*

"Willow..." he gasped at the thoughts and emotions, unfamiliar- that popped up, unbidden like kernels, jumping through the popper.

"What? Spencer what is it? Woah... you- you're so pale. Is there something I can do? Spence?" The slight shaking subsided as she neared his spot opposite her. Some of the fear ebbed away... and he felt it with renewed vigour, his will, if not for his own life but hers, to get them out alive. He promised her. Promised himself. She would not die.

"I'm fine, it's fine... just... I just had an idea."

*He swallowed deep. He had to get that lump out of his throat. Had to get those pointless thoughts of grief and guilt out of his head. If he cried, she was dead. he had won, and nothing was going to make that okay. So he soldiered on...*

A/N~ Okay, a little choppy... a little different, a little weird, but an UPDATE. Huzzah. Hope you liked it. It was fun to write. :) Review... cuz it was the lack of feedback that made me choose a different story to pursue. I thought you'd forgotten me. D: That sounded like a threat. It wasn't. Can you tell how much I need reviews here?

By the way, I've decided that * indicates the beginning and ending of a "flash forward" If you will.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N~ Hey guys, a little late again, I know, but I wanted to at least try to update on my usual Friday... which, probably won't hold perfectly, you've been warned. Wanted to clear up confusion from last week with my rather reckless wording... I didn't mean lack of reviews made me stop writing this story, just that the feedback on the other story outweighed it quite a bit, so I put this on the back burner. It's totally my fault, and I appreciate you guys greatly. Anywho, Enjoy this chapter, I really hope it's adequate. A little longer than the usual. Read on. :)

*Curious as he was, he couldn't bring himself to focus on whatever brilliant plan Reid had hatched, because he knew the end of that story. Instead Morgan looked, really looked at the young man before him. He looked... but he didn't see his friend. He saw an imitation. It killed him that he'd lost that innocence he hoped in vain the kid would cling to for many many years. He couldn't stand the thought that Reid had fought, fought hard- and lost a girl who seemed so special to him. A friend he had vowed to protect, a firecracker of a girl who was murdered viciously within the hellhole they had shared. He couldn't take his eyes off the genius, though he wanted to look away. Just a kid, who had tried and failed to save a life, and was haunted. Somehow the shadows beneath his eyes darkened, his eyes sunken in, and he did, he soldiered on. But without his happy go lucky attitude, it wasn't Spencer Reid who was doing the soldiering. Morgan didn't care for this imitation. Like a train wreck, his eyes were glued to the horror that was this guy, whoever he was, reciting every detail of his near murder with perfect clarity. He was struck with the horrible truth that his friend would never forget...

"She didn't even want to hear my idea, she... guys, she just told me to shut up. And made sure I was okay first." His voice broke.

"But I had to... I swore I'd save her, so I gave her hope." His face crumpled.

"I was such an idiot."*

"No, shh, Willow, I know how to get out of here, I mean... I have a plan!" She watched, fascinated, as his eyes darted back and forth, his face lighting up like the flick of a lighter.

"Willow," He wished more than ever he could pull his hands from behind his back and gesture wildly to help her understand his scattered thoughts -

Footsteps sounded overhead. And just as quickly, his fire was snuffed out.

*"It was like slow motion, you know? Like the whole thing was just a weird joke, or... or a scene from a movie. Like... I could just leave the theatre, and Will, and you guys... you'd all just be there, waiting for me to come back to reality. I wished... I wished so bad that I could walk out of that theatre."

Prentiss noted with concern that there was a hiccup in his grammar. That Spencer Reid's speech was something other than succinct and impeccably proper... was, strangely more scary than his external injuries. Almost like he lost the ability to care.*

He leered at them. There was no other word for it. He leered with all the murderous glee he could muster, and twirled the knife in his hands.

"Oh, I've been waiting a long time for this. A long time. You know I watched you? Every second of every day." He inhaled deeply as he crouched down by the struggling man.

"It was... fun." He chuckled.

"It's always fun. Scouting out a place, seeing her - or him, and thinking to myself... Yes. That's the person. They'll be dead in a month. Do you have any idea the kind of thrill that gives you? Waiting outside your window..." He brushed the knife along his face, lost in a reverie.

"I know my victims. I see _them_ when they die. Their thoughts. Their emotions. Their prayers. Because I'm watching. All the time, I see what they do, how they act, what they really think... like you Dr Reid. Oh... you're a tricky one to decipher, aren't you? You _and_ her. You're not just happy go lucky wittle Spencer, are you?"

He stood.

"You're complex, you people. Your fighters. I really love it when they fight." He shot them a sickening smile.

"But It's time to move on to the next part of the story kids. The really painful bit." He gave Spencer a long, meaningful stare.

"I love this part. I love all the parts."

With a jolt, Reid realized that he wasn't the only one who had a plan...

Without further warning than a barely noticeable twitch in the corners of his mouth, the madman spun and jammed the knife into willow's chest.

The worlds rotatation seemed to slow... as if the loss of such a shining star had prevented it from turning. There was the longest silence. Almost like it hadn't happened at all.

He so wished it hadn't happened at all.

That it didn't have to register. But it did. And he felt it.

"Jesus, no!" His head fell to his chest, dirty locks falling to hide his tortured expression from view

" Will, no willow... NO!" He bellowed to the sky... Lifting his face to question whoever was listening. Empty sobs echoed around the dingy basement, another life claimed, another existence slipping away to join the others snatched within these walls. Pleased with his work, the unsub stooped down beside her, intending to watch the life leave her eyes...

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" He emerged briefly from his agony to save her from this at least... before lapsing into misery once again. The unsub rose. He spun on the spot and stared at him, vaguely annoyance clouding his elation. But Reid only had eyes for her, her frame slumped over in a heartbreakingly unnatural way... a deep crimson stain blossoming on the grimy t-shirt, once a sunny yellow. He imagined her picking it out. Grinning as she did so, so blissfully unaware of what fate it would have. She would have. And it wasn't just her, her strength and her beauty falling to ruin that got to him. It was his promise. His apparent lie. He couldn't take it back now.

"PLEASE, God, please, bring her back. Bring her back - help me!" Messy tears streamed down his face - now twisted with the worst kind of pain. He let out an agonized sob. She would never know his plan.

"You son of a bitch. You son of a BITCH. You took her! And I... I promised her." He cried with all the emotion of a man who had known her since birth.

And the murderer laughed. He cackled really... probably an effort to block out the duet of noises behind him, Reid yelling profanities, and the redhead... making the most heartbreaking sound. A whimper, a tiny, terrified, wisp of a noise. The last thing she'd ever do, he was sure.

He reveled in it. And when he had his fill... he continued.

"I love dessert, don't you? The entree was good, don't get me wrong... but this is the part - when you develop all your little feelings." A smirk in the face of a crying man... a failed saviour.

"And you cry and you moan, but you just know you can't save the girl."

"So here we are! She's a breath away from death Mr Reid. And you? Let me tell you about you..."

"No you help her! You save her. You stupid bastard, she is... she was... she..."

"You are an idiot of a genius, a cocaine addict, a failed son, a failed surrogate son, a failed FBI agent... and a failed hero."

"You made your pointless promises, you delivered your little parcels of hope to a marked woman, and now she's rotting on the ground..."

"Don't talk about her like that!"

"You've never been popular have you Spencer? Hopeless when it came to human contact, hopeless in any relationship you tried to embark upon. You failed your father, he knew how worthless you were, and he couldn't take it anymore, so he scurried off as fast as he could, glad to be free of you and your nut job mother-"

"Stop."

"And even she knew... she could see you degrade into the same madness that had taken her, and she was secretly relieved to be rid of your second rate care, even a crazy felt safer in an asylum than in your incompetent arms."

"It's not-"

"What happened next, oh yes, Mr Gideon, he made his greatest mistake when he saw such a pathetic creature in you, took you to the FBI, thought he could make use of your brains at least, but of course you failed him when you drove him near the brink of another meltdown..."

"Stop it."

"After that there was no one to love you, no one to make excuses for your pointless life, for you useless contribution to the field where real agents played, and the team is so, so glad to see you gone now. A child, incapable of control and growth, unable to use his potential, unable to break free of his own mind and become a person, so he turned to the nearest exit, a crapload of dilaudid, that was sure to help him."

"Stop... please..."

"So he shot up to forget that not a soul in the world cared... tried to escape to a world where he wasn't the failure. Where he had control. But you didn't did you? It muddled your useless existence further. And one day... a particular unsub comes around that shatters your world once and for all, sends you a pretty young thing, only to snatch her away like a shiny plaything, and she was pretty, don't you think? I gave you a taste of what a good person, who had yet to be tainted by you, could be. And you failed her too-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH." His jaw clenched, and he hissed his retaliation at her killer.

"You'd like to think you've shattered me. You'd like to think you've rattled me now, or that you will be the one to end me. My team is obviously beyond your reckoning. As is Willow. As is my mother. And you're right."

He panted.

"I failed them. But your mistake is simple. They never failed me."

"They were my solace. They are a power you can't understand, because you can never love, you know well that you're incapable. You don't know me, or those people. You know what you've heard. And I know, that my mother cares deeply for me. That Willow would never want me to give in to you." He choked.

"And I know that they're coming. Rant all you want. They'll always get to me." He breathed shakily and lifted a heart wrenching glare to his captors face.

"You will lose."

*Word for word. He had described the entire encounter... every hateful syllable, word for word. They stared. Unashamed. Unable to feel anything really. They were silent in their tears. Crying for a life that was never truly lived... for a girl they had never known. For a person so bright, and so honest, that it shined through a simple recollection of her short time on this Earth. It was astonishing how much Willow had affected the people who never had a chance to meet her. Morgan had silently wished for a face off with that girl. For a chance to meet her quips, and her sass, with a tease or a good comeback. He got the feeling she would've fit in with this team. Joking along side them... it was a shock to realize she never would. Penelope stared out the window. Imagining a friendship that would never be... tears streaming. Her baby boy had lost a friend. She would have loved to meet the girl who made him speak of her so fondly, who had opened him up... before he was smashed back down. The silence was deafening as the team came to terms with the losses. Innocence so rarely lives in this world of ours.

And two souls had lost it that day.

And finally... Reid broke his unfaltering gaze. He broke down. And he cried.*

A/N~ Finally! I made sure to never have him breaking contact, looking anywhere other than at a team member, or crying. I had him looking heartbroken, and choking, but never crying. I knew he needed to come to terms with her death and lose his composure at a specific moment. So, I really I hope I did dear Willow justice in death as I hope I did in life. Grief, especially for a person the main characters didn't know well... is hard to write. Please drop in a review and tell me your thoughts... on the "flash forwards", on her demise, anything you please. I love feedback!


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